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Sunday, Feb. 03, 2002 / 4:39 p.m. ~Oops, I Did it Again~ I kinda blew my weekend. Again. I swear, swear, to whatever, god, goddess, or just myself, I had the grandest plans. To drop off the recycling, to go to the movies, to do some dusting, cooking, etc., and yesterday was this beautiful day, all perfect and everything, but there was that All-Star game for the National Hockey League, and believe it or not, here's how out of touch I am, I didn't know whether or not any Thrashers were in it until they announced the players in the beginning half hour long pre-game ceremony! What? No Thrashers?! So, if they hadn't held this inaugural "Young Stars Game" the night before, Ilya Kovalchuk would've played with the big kids, right? Just because he's 18 you throw him in at the kids' table, er, game? Oh man, what a fucking rip off! He scored 6 goals! Don't you think he could've done that against Mario LePew?! Give me a fucking break! Yeah, so I watched it, mostly. I couldn't tell who was who the whole time, they're wearing different numbers, special All-Star jerseys, etc., and if not for that announcer guy (Bill Clement and ?, what's his name? I got it, GARY THORNE), I wouldn't have known much. Granted, he's great, except for when he announced the wrong score at one point, and I'm going, "It's not 7 to 6, you idiot, it's 7 to 5! Somebody say something, Bill Clement, say something!" And I'd look out the porch window, the sliding glass doors rather, and see the blue sky, the green pine needles glistening on the trees, the sun shining, and think, what the fuck am I doing? 8-5, final score. Entertaining. No checking, no penalties, a very "gentlemanly" game of hockey. *Yawnnnnnnn* All that intense caffeinated surge of energy, gone, lost, kaput! Sucked into the television. After the game I watched most of "Pauline at the Beach", an Eric Rohmer "talkfest", as they call his films. And in French, it's a readfest. Sort of like a soap opera, wherein usually the players are standing, talking, and choreography of sorts has them dancing around each other as they talk. One moves over here, the other turns, one moves there, more turning, fake hand gestures whilst talking. Talk, talk, talk. But it was French. And I love French! I love catching phrases, words, thinking, yeah, I could speak fluently, sure. "Chacun a son gout", yeah, to each his own. I caught that. I like that phrase in French. And it was about mores, French mores, and they're different from us, you know, the French. Whoo hoo, are they! Okay, it was alright. Pauline, a 14 year old at the beach, with her cousin. Marion. And Marion thinks she loves Henri, but Henri only loves himself. And Pauline meets Sylvain and thinks Sylvain has cheated on her with the candy girl, but the candy girl was really sleeping with Henri, but Henri didn't want Marion to find out because he "hates to make people cry", so he made it look like it was Sylvain with the candy girl. And don't forget the one who is in love with Marion, and I forget his name, but he was played by Pascal Greggory, who was in one of my all-time faves, "La Reine Margot"! He was so young, so skinny in this movie. But ultimately the acting was not too good. I watched for the French, the language and the people, the beach, the idea of being free to hang on a beach, stay at a beach house, not work, just stand around and talk, making fake hand gestures. Then Bond. James Bond. "From Russia With Love". And even though it was on ABC, and they dragged it to 3 hours so they could show five billion commercials, and they had the cast of "Alias" doing these taped bits wherein they'd discuss what it's like to be a spy, etc., it was still pretty good. That Russian dyke double spy (what do you call a double spy? I forget) caressing the lovley Tatiana's leg! Too much! Sean Connery's hairy chest and that line of hair that goes down his abdomen.....mmmmmm....the scene with the exploding barrels of fuel in the lake, and man it looked like those stuntmen really got burned! The train fight, when Bond slaps Tatiana, SO many good moments. Not my favorite Bond film, but it's damned good, nonetheless. And I'd swear that was Connery voicing Blofeld! I must obtain a Bond trivia book at some point. Hey, why hasn't someone bought me one? It would make a great birthday present. April, don't forget! Thick center cut organic bacon. Yeah, organic bacon, and organic eggs (of course!), with shiitakes and shallots and lots of butter. And herbed cheese bread with rosemary sundried tomato ham. Almost too many flavors. And caramel, caramel chunk ice cream. And I realize I really don't care enough for chocolate. And I love to start sentences with "And". Really, these caramel "chunks" covered with "fudge", but I kept wishing the "fudge" weren't there. So I ate, and watched TV, and next was "Trading Spaces", and the designs were just really freaky weird. But it's entertaining. That was my Saturday. Besides the manicures for us three girls, and putting a few things away, "Une place pour chaque chose, et chaque chose en sa place", I didn't do crap. Not crap. Yeah, I planned the manicure, that was on the mental list, when N and G start sticking to the stuff they're stretching on, and I can't type anymore, it's time for nail growth to be removed. But all the other stuff, as usual, nope, didn't do a thing. And you know that beautiful day? Gone. Today it's raining and cold. I actually have the heater on for the first time in a couple weeks! Yeah. Wow. I slept all day today, 'til 3:30. That's kind of all day. I woke up totally exhausted. It was just one dream after the other, the last involved me trying to find a specific comic book. Crazy! Why? Finally, some guy was coming over to help me. I was standing amidst a bunch of boxes, and I had this catalog that showed the title I was seeking, but I couldn't find it. I originally woke around 8:00, then 10:00, then at 1:00 I said, This is ridiculous! But I went back to sleep. I think it was the prospect of cleaning that kept me in bed. If it was get up and clean, or sleep and dream....ummmm......I'd rather be dreaming. I need that on a bumper sticker. So, here we are, 5:00 p.m. on Sunday. I've had my coffee, washed my face. Need to brush my teeth and consider bathing, but I probably will put that off 'til tomorrow morning since I HAVE to do it then anyway. I have an entire week of "Guiding Light" on tape, so I guess I'll be watching those, and that's actually fairly satisfying. Fast forward through all the commercials, it cuts several hours off the viewing time (tee hee), and to watch them all in a row means no waiting to find out what happens next! I do need to address all the food in the fridge, the lettuce must be used for salad, and the potatoes for salad of a different kind. This conjures an image of me on a podium, addressing a room full of vegetables. "Now, I stand before you, on this Super Bowl Sunday, to assure you I will not, that's will NOT be watching the aforementioned sports event, but will be taking the time instead to prepare you all in loving and healthful ways so that I may eat you, yes eat you, but do not worry, please, do not panic, beacuse you do realize that you have already been harvested and you are in fact......dead." Man, I'm tired. Marathon sleep/dream fests are so tiring. I just want to go lie down, remote control in hand. Okay, I won't. I'll be productive, somehow. I know, I'll sit, watch the "GL"s, then cook, sure. Cost of the War in Iraq
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